The Cheese Shop Fic
by AndrewK9000
Summary: Jill Sparrow of The Ramblers has decided to buy some cheese, if she can find any that is.


Greetings fellow readers and writers! This here is a one-shot story staring one of my original characters, Jill Sparrow of The Ramblers. I have used elements of Monty Python in previous stories, but this is my first parody of a full Monty Python skit. I don't own Monty Python, but it would be so cool if I did. And now, please enjoy…

**The Cheese Shop Fic**

** A Monty Python Parody By**

**AndrewK9000**

It was a bright Saturday morning when Jill Sparrow walked down the streets of her beloved London. This was her weekend off from The Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, and she hoped to make the most of it by doing some shopping. At about 10:45 a.m. Jill's stomach growled like a Siberian Tiger. She turned her head and noticed a cheese shop. _Perfect,_ thought Jill, _I'm famished._

She walked to the shop and opened the door, a bell chiming to announce that a customer had entered. Jill walked up to the counter where the owner of the shop stood. In the corner of the shop an man was playing a bazouki. (I assume a bazouki is a guitar of some sort). "Good morning," said Jill. "Good morning, madam," said the shop owner, "Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!"

"Ah, thank you my good man," said Jill. "What can I do for you today, madam?" asked the owner. "Well," said Jill, "I was walking down the street just now, looking at all the shop displays, and I suddenly came over all peckish."

"Peckish, madam?" asked the owner. "Esuriant," said Jill. "Eh?" asked the owner. Jill hesitated for a second before shifting to a welsh accent and said, "'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!" "Ah, hungry!" said the owner. "In a nutshell," said Jill as she shifted back to her normal accent, "And I thought to myself, 'a little fermented curd will do the trick,' so I curtailed my window-shopping activities, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheese comestibles!"

"Come again?" asked the owner. "I want to buy some cheese," said Jill. "Oh," said the owner, "I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player." "Oh heaven forbid!" said Jill, "I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!" "Sorry?" asked the owner. Jill then shifted again to a welsh accent before saying, "'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!"

"So he can go on playing, can he?" asked the owner. "Most certainly," said Jill in her normal accent, "Now then, some cheese please, my good man." "Certainly, madam," said the owner in an eager tone, "What would you like?"

"Well," said Jill, "How about a little red Leicester." "I'm afraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, madam," said the owner. "Oh, never mind," said Jill, "How are you on Tilsit?" "I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, madam," said the owner, "We get it fresh on Monday."

"No matter," said Jill, "Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if you please." "Ah, it's been on order, madam, for two weeks now," said the owner, "Was expecting it this morning." "Not my lucky day," said Jill, "Is it? Ah, Bel Paese?" "Sorry, madam," said the owner.

"Red Windsor?" asked Jill. "Normally, madam, yes," said the owner, "Today the van broke down." "Ah, Stilton?" asked Jill. "Sorry," said the owner. "Ementhal? Gruyere?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner.

"Any Norwegian Jarlsburg, perchance," said Jill. "No," said the owner. "Lipta?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Lancashire?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner.

"White Stilton?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Danish Brew?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Double Goucester?" asked Jill. The owner paused for a second before answering "No."

"Dorset Bluveny?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Brie," said Jill, "Roquefort, Pol le Veg, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier se lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?" "No," said the owner.

"Camenbert, perhaps?" asked Jill. "Ah!" said the owner, "We have Camenbert, madam." "You do!" said Jill in a surprised tone, "Excellent." "Yes madam," said the owner, "It's…ah…it's a bit runny though." "Oh, I like it runny," said Jill. "Well…" said the owner, "It's very runny, actually, madam."

"No matter," said Jill, "Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France!" "I think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, madam. "I don't care how f#ck$ng runny it is," said Jill, "Hand it over with all speed."

"Oooooooooohhh…!" exclaimed the owner. "What now?" asked Jill. "The cat's eaten it," answered the owner. "Has he," said a skeptic Jill. "She, madam," said the owner.

There was a slight pause before Jill asked, "Gouda?" "No," said the owner. "Edam?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Case Ness?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Smoked Austrian?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Japanese Sage Darby?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner.

"You…do 'have' some cheese," said Jill, "Don't you?" "Of course, madam," said the owner in a bright tone, "It's a cheese shop, madam. We've got…" "No no," interrupted Jill, "I'm keen to guess." "Fair enough," said the owner.

"Um," said Jill, "Wensleydale." "Yes?" asked the owner. "Ah, well," said Jill, "I'll have some of that!" "Oh!" said the owner, "I thought you were talking to me, madam. Mister Wensleydale, that's my name."

There was another short pause before Jill asked, "Greek Feta?" "Uh, not as such," said the owner. "Gorgonzola?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Parmesan?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Mozzarella?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Paper Cramer?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Danish Bimbo?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Czech sheep's milk?" asked Jill. "No," said the owner. "Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?" asked Jill. "Not today," said the owner, "No, madam."

There was another pause before Jill asked, "Ah, how about cheddar?" "Well," said the owner, "We don't get much call for it around here, madam." "Not much call…" said an annoyed Jill, "It's the single most popular cheese in the world!" "Not 'round here, madam," said the owner.

"And what is the most popular cheese 'round here?" asked Jill. "'Illchester, madam," said the owner. "Is it," said Jill. "Oh, yes," said the owner, "It's staggeringly popular in this manusquire." "Is it," said Jill. "It's our number one best seller, madam," said the owner. "I see," said Jill, "Uh, 'Illchester, eh?" "Right, madam," said the owner.

"All right," said Jill, "Okay, 'have you got any?' she asked, expecting the answer 'no'." "I'll have a look, madam," said the owner. He bent over to look under the counter and reappeared after about ten seconds, "No madam," he said.

All this time the bazouki player was playing louder and faster, and it was getting on Jill's nerves. "It's not much of a cheese shop," said Jill, "Is it?" "Finest in the district!" said the owner. "Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please," said an annoyed sounding Jill. "Well, it's so clean, madam," said the owner. "It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese," said Jill.

"You haven't asked me about the Limburger, madam," said the owner in a bright tone. "Is it worth it?" asked Jill. "Could be," said the owner. "Have you," said Jill before her nerved twitched and she shouted, "SHUT THAT BLOODY BAZOUKI OFF!" "I told you, madam," said the owner as the bazouki player stopped playing.

"Have you got any Limburger?" Jill asked slowly. "No," said the owner. "Figures," said Jill, "Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me:" "Yes madam?" asked the owner. "Have you in fact got any cheese here at all?" asked Jill in a deliberate tone.

"Yes, madam," said the owner. "Really?" asked Jill. There was a pause before the owner replied, "No, not really, madam." "You haven't," said Jill rather than asking. "No madam," said the owner, "Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time, madam." "Well I'm sorry," said Jill, "But I'm going to have to shoot you."

"Right-o, madam," said the owner. Jill then took out her service pistol and shot the owner between the eyes. "What a senseless waste of human life," said Jill as she walked out of the shop. Jill didn't actually shoot the owner, but she wanted to. Instead she left the shop and headed for the nearest Burger King where she ordered a large Whopper, without cheese.

The end.

I'm guessing that by now you're somewhat confused. This is British humor and some people may not get British humor. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this parody of Monty Python as much as I have enjoyed writing it. See you later!


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